


Autumn

by Atqh16



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 03:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14011566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atqh16/pseuds/Atqh16
Summary: Alfred doesn't believe in coincidences. But he can't help but find it humorlessly ironic that they lose the first Robin just as the first autumn leaf falls. Or death visits the family again and Alfred shows comfort the only way he knows how. Submitted for the Halloween Content War





	Autumn

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters. If I did Tim's back story would be a hell lot more consistent!

For the Halloween content war (I heard about it late but thought I'd publish something anyway)

Day 1 prompt : Autumn

The sun begins to set before Alfred finally feels enough is enough. He steps out onto the cemetery, footfalls gentle, almost non-existent on the freshly mowed grass. But he'd be a fool to think Bruce hadn't heard him the moment he opened the kitchen door.

He stops a few feet behind the man he who is his son in everything but name, and he waits.

He waits because truthfully he is at lost as to what should be said. In some ways this is familiar territory. But in others it is entirely different.

Bruce has always dealt with death terribly. His coping mechanisms only one thread bare from being held as mentally unsound.

Because Bruce copes by not coping. He broods and laments but at the same time refuses to acknowledge his loss. To whisper their name or touch their things. It had taken a month for Alfred to coax him to visit his parents' graves after they were murdered and 3 months before he spotted his grieving employer lay roses on Jason's headstone.

But much to his surprise, it's barely been a week since the incident and here Bruce stands in nothing but his silk pajamas and a thick wool robe. Standing barefooted over his son's fresh grave. A position he seems to have kept from his first waking moment. Eyes staring blankly downward as if transfixed by the engraving.

Alfred wants to shake him. Wants to force his senses back in to him. Wants to wring him, remind him of his 3 other sons that are waiting for him inside. 3 sons that are just as lost as he is and whom need their father now more than ever before.

But how could he? For who is he, to tell a man to cease his grieving over his son.

So Alfred does the only thing he can do. He stands there and he waits. The dour golden rays of the sun disappear well below the horizon before the man in front of him finally speaks and the words break his heart.

" _They killed my boy Alfred_ "

It's barely a whisper. So much so that the elderly man wondered if it had been intended to be heard at all.

Either way he doesn't know how to answer to that. What in the world could he possibly say to provide even a fraction of comfort to something so irrevocably broken. An effort of any measure would be akin to calling shattered glass merely cracked.

25 years old is after all, an age much too young to have had their eldest ripped away from them. And how darkly ironic it is that they lose their first Robin just as the first autumn leaf falls.

So again-perhaps against his own better judgment- he chooses silence. His back ramrod straight with satin gloved hands clasped tightly behind his back. A reliable, strong vision of support that he knows his employer needs. Has always needed. Especially now.

He will not mourn. At least not yet. A show of grief of any kind will as always be done on his own time, behind closed doors. He is nothing if not professional, he can and will maintain himself as the paragon of strength that this household requires.

And if his own cold, fisted hands tremble as he stands with his shined shoes merely inches away from the still freshly turned soil. In front of the headstone of the beautiful boy he had helped raise. He will simply ensure no one can see them.


End file.
